Often, language seems to fall short.
At least lately, the means by which to express gratitude through speaking or writing seem incomparable to the experience of emotion. Maybe my internal thesaurus didn’t carry forward after the reboot six months ago. Maybe it’s the fluctuation of hormones through early menopause. Maybe the language part of my brain is busy healing a lesion, or maybe it was obliterated – swept away in one my brain’s black holes. Maybe I need to learn another language.
My grandmother called this morning to sing happy birthday. She shared fond memories of me playing in the sandbox, hanging out with Ivan her German Shepherd. My heart filled with joy and my body remembered the feeling of that sand, contoured to my body’s every pudgy roll, running my fingers through the superfine texture of that gold playground sand. In return I shared fond memories of the marvelous lemon meringue pies that she used to bake me every year. My heart swelled with gratitude and my tongue remembered the light meringue, lemony tart tang, and the perfectly flakey crust. She laughed with me and declared herself too old now to teach me and I instantly regretted not paying close attention the time she did try to teach me. I declared that surely she must have figured out the secret to life, to be faring so well with such grace at 97. Again, we laughed. My heart radiated love and adoration. We continued to chat and although her stories were shorter and less detailed than ever before, it seemed as though she too could feel the memories.
The secret is still hers.
After we talked I sat on my yoga mat, pondering life through my lens – crafted at the intersection of awe and appreciation – and for whatever reason I thought maybe I should start a list. Maybe the 10 aspirational characteristics of 4 people that I admire most. Maybe my top 40 favorite songs. Maybe a bucket list with 40 ideas. Maybe the 40 symptoms that are different post-transplant. Maybe the 4 things I love most about 10 people.
The list is beyond articulation.
Maybe words were never designed to reflect the overwhelming awakening of being truly present.
Maybe when your brain hits 14,600 days (or 35,405 for that matter – way to go Babsie!) of cataloging and coordinating one’s constitution, it deserves calm respite.
Regardless, I choose to embrace the day. Celebrate the good and honor reality.
be present. truly be in each moment. be grateful.